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would make the Monvale Primary building move out of the way. ‘I couldn’t tell you the last time I was here.’ He started counting years on his fingers until he ran out of fingers and gave up.
    He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Come with me for a sec,’ he said.
    He led me across Thomas Road. He leaned against the fence and I just copied him. We both stared at the E. B. Watson Oval. My heart thumped. I shouldn’t have lied. I should have just told him the truth, about the phone, the note . . . All of it.
    â€˜See that toilet block?’ Dad asked, pointing over at it. ‘The first time I spoke to your mum was over there.’
    That sounded romantic, not.
    â€˜Your grandpa ran the sausage sizzle on Saturdays, and I would help him out by giving people sauce. Your mum was there to watch her brother play footy, she came over to buy some food. I knew her name, but that was it, we were in different classes. The first thing I said to her was, “Tomato or barbecue?”’
    â€˜And then you fell in love.’ I made a smooching face.
    â€˜I was so scared I didn’t talk to her again for a year.’ Dad laughed.
    We just stood there, quietly. Dad was thinking about the past and I could hear Mr Johnson in my head again. Dad was on my team, I just had to let him . . . ‘Dad?’
    â€˜Yeah?’
    â€˜I . . . didn’t forget your message,’ I said. ‘I didn’t get it.’
    â€˜You sure? Maybe my phone’s broken.’ He went to check but I stopped him.
    â€˜No, I . . . Mr Johnson caught me on my phone yesterday and confiscated it. He said I could have it back if you signed my note, but I didn’t want you and Mum finding out.’
    Dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at the oval. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or not.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ I added.
    He sighed and squeezed one of my shoulders. ‘It’s all right.’
    I was relieved. Mr Johnson was right. Admitting stuff wasn’t so bad . . . I felt so much better.
    â€˜Where’s the note?’ he asked.
    I got it out of my bag and Dad signed it on the bonnet of his car. I ran back to 5J. Well, I ran as far as I could before a teacher in the hall told me to slow down. Mr Johnson was still in the classroom when I got there.
    â€˜Did you forget something, Sean?’
    I was out of breath and waving the note in front of me. ‘I got it . . . signed.’
    Mr Johnson took it out of my hands. He blinked down at it. ‘Is this really your dad’s signature?’
    I nodded. ‘He’s in the car outside, if you want me to –’
    I stopped myself. Mr Johnson pulled open the top drawer of his desk and grabbed my phone. He handed it back. ‘You’re not going to use it on the playground?’
    I shook my head. ‘I’m not.’
    It had only been a day since I’d spoken to Eddie and Christian, but it had felt like forever. I hurried back to the car and switched my phone on. I was putting on my seatbelt when Dad held out his hand.
    â€˜Before you get it back, I want to talk to your mother.’
    â€˜But Dad . . .’
    â€˜No “buts”.’
    I sighed and handed it over. And once again, Bunbury was a million kilometres away.

I reckon Mum and Dad were talking about my phone while they were getting dinner ready. I’m not sure, but they went quiet as soon as I entered the room, so . . . they probably were. Nobody brought it up until after dinner, though.
    â€˜So, I heard about your phone,’ Mum said.
    â€˜Your mother and I have decided we should keep it for a little bit,’ Dad added.
    â€˜But . . .’ I pleaded.
    It was Mum’s turn to speak. ‘Until you can prove that you’re responsible enough for a phone, then it’s staying with us.’
    I sank back into my